


Guaifenesin

by MajorEnglishEsquire



Series: Prompt Responses [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic, Sick Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://inthebackoftheimpala.tumblr.com/">inthebackoftheimpala</a>: "The impala breaks down for no discernible reason and Sam leaves Cas and dean with the car while he treks back to the last farm they passed"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guaifenesin

Sam could've sworn he remembered this road, but he fucked up and now he has to eat it. "Dammit," he hisses as the Impala clunks to a halt. He steers her slowly, carefully to the side of the road.

Cas is suddenly alert in the rear-view, blinking awake, eyes questioning.

"I thought there was a gas station out here. I mean. I remember-- shit. Shit."

"We're out?" Cas asks, kinda quiet.

They're at a standstill now so Sam pulls the keys out and slams his head on the steering wheel.

"Alright," he says to the dashboard. "Okay. There was a farm like six, maybe eight miles back. Fuck."

When he lifts his head again, there's no judgment in Cas's eyes, only exhaustion. "I'm gonna walk back. See if there's something on that farm I can siphon gas from."

"There's no one we can call?" Cas asks.

"No one who would get here before sunrise. We're nowhere, man." And Dean would give him hell if he called AAA or something. He may be sick but he's not on death's door. Better a night walking across Montana than Dean losing his shit laughing at him.

Sam turns and looks over the seat. Dean's still totally out, head resting on Cas's lap, nose red, breaths low and wheezing.

"This might be like four hours. You'll be okay?"

Cas shrugs. "Sleeping is like... a time warp. I'll sleep. We'll sleep."

Sam nods. Taps the seat. "Alright. Wish me luck. My cell's on. You know, in case."

He exits the car and starts walking back the way they came, hands in his pockets.

Castiel fully intends to settle back down into sleep but the corner he'd been snoozing against feels cold and pointed and uncomfortable now. It's only mildly annoying for the first half hour but then he really wants to drop off into sleep and this just isn't working. He doesn't  _want_  to disturb Dean but--

He sighs and tries to handle Dean a little, and of course, Dean wakes up, coughing on phlegm.

He leverages himself up against Cas's knee and looks around at the dark.

"The hell?"

"We're out of gas. Sam went to get some."

"Alone. You're fucking kidding me."

Cas grabs the back of Dean's jacket before he can so much as think of leaving the car. "He's forty minutes out. You won't catch up to him."

"We  _have_ an extra gas can from the last--"

"We used it on the grave, though."

"Ugh."

Dean's head thumps back down on Cas's lap. Cas can hear his every breath.

"You need more drugs."

"They're not doing anything but blocking the snot all up in my head," Dean presses over his eyes and his nose, putting pressure on his sinuses.

They're quiet for a minute and Dean can feel the block of phlegmy sickness clogging up the back of his scratchy throat. The pain in his ears and behind his eyes. The pain high on his cheeks and into his nose. He'd give anything to clear a nostril.

And for a moment, he just gives into it.

"I'm sick," he whines, and turns on Cas's thigh to bring his arms up and around Cas, wherever he can grab.

He can excuse Cas's little huff of humor because Cas grabs him back, hauls him up a little and holds him close and rubs his back.

"You should sleep some more," Cas tries this time.

"I can't sleep. I'm exhausted."

"I'm not sure that makes sense," Dean can almost feel him squinting in the dark.

Fuck that. He tugs and Cas kind of grumbles all,  _what do you--what are you,_  and then he lets go of Dean and turns to crouch opposite and then slides in behind him, lying down across the seats, tucking Dean against the back of the seats. He rubs Dean's chest and gradually molds in around him. Dean whines in the back of his throat and coughs a little pathetically. Expresses temporary joy when the change of position clears one nostril until the pressure shifts to the other side of his face and he turns to hide in Cas's neck for a while, aching, sad, feeling awful.

"I know," Cas rubs his back now.

"No you don't. You haven't even been sick once yet. I'm probably gonna get you sick for your first time as a human and you're not used to it so I'm probably gonna kill you and it's gonna be awful. I'm a fucking really awful person. I feel awful. I am awful. Why do you put up with me."

Each sentence book-ended with this incredibly sick sounding pull of snot into the back of his throat.

Cas slows his hand on Dean's back and just presses them together for a moment. "You're not awful. You're just a little gross right now." He uses his sleeve to wipe Dean's nose and then pulls him close again, to rub his back until he falls asleep once more.


End file.
